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It’s silent for a beat, and then I say, “I love you.” My mom sniffles again.
“Love you too. Send me those pictures and send them to Dad too. He won’t say it, but he misses you as well.”
I nod and then mutter my goodbye before hanging up. I snap some pictures of the apartment complex and a few of the ocean before shooting them over to my mom and dad. It’s a peace offering to my dad, at least. He can take it or leave it.
He never was much of a texter, so there’s a good chance I won’t even hear from him. But at least I made the first move. I did what I could.
It was nice to hear that I’m always welcome home. Even if I did steal away in the night like a criminal.
I don’t feel like being cooped up in my room right now. So I head to the small cafeteria, grab some snacks, and make my way to the beach. I sit under the shade of a tree because I don’t wanna get burned. I researched sunscreen and realized it doesn’t work all day. You have to keep reapplying it over and over.
Being responsible is a lot of work. I get why my dad never wears it. He doesn’t have the patience. He’d rather have skin cancer.
I break out the cheese and crackers I bought, accidentally fumbling with the cheese and dropping it into the sand. I stare forlornly at it, then pick it up and blow on it, trying to dislodge the small white particles from my food.
It doesn’t work all that well, and when I take a bite of it a few minutes later, the cheese crunches in my teeth.
Bob makes an appearance as I’m chewing on sandpaper, trying to force myself to swallow. He’s wearing my boxers like a cape and that flip-flop is still around his waist. I’m starting to worry that it’s stuck on him, like those plastic soda holders around turtles’ necks. I’ve contributed to global destruction.
“Shoo,” I say, waving my hand out, but Bob just eyes my sandy cheese. I should probably just give it to him because I’m not quite liking how my teeth are grinding.
Can monkeys have cheese?
I’m not sure, but the way he’s eyeing me, he’ll probably make a grab for it anyway. So I hold my hand out, and Bob quickly scurries up to it, swipes it from my hand, and gobbles it down.
I hang out under the tree for another twenty minutes, the monkey and I under some sort of truce, when all of a sudden he squeaks out a loud, wet fart. Sounds painful.
Pulling out my phone, I Google it.
Shit. Cheese causes bloating and diarrhea in monkeys.
“Shoo, for real,” I say, feeling guilty. I didn’t realize that it would make him all bloated. Not that Bob would have left me alone until he got what he wanted.
Maybe he needs a cracker to balance the cheese out.
I hand him one, and he scarfs it down. His stomach is looking a little round—probably all the gas.
Another fart squeaks out of him and an unholy stench wafts toward me. The plants around him are withering.
I stand up, shoving a few more crackers into my mouth before handing Bob some, feeling bad about the inevitable fact that he’s gonna have the shits later.
“Feeding the wildlife…tsk, tsk,” a voice says behind me, and I glance over my shoulder at Holden who is walking toward me with a man at his side—a very handsome man, at that. His hands are in his pockets, but the way he’s looking at Holden doesn’t sayfriendat all.
I swallow the sandy cheese and crackers down, and some sticks in my throat.
“Hi,” I say, my throat raspy like I’ve been a lifelong chain-smoker.
Holden meets my stare and then gestures toward the man next to him. “You remember Cade from nude night? He works in the restaurant on the rehab side.”
I eye this guy who grows hotter by the second. Since when have tattoos looked so good? Why does his long dark hair have to look so lush?
I should start using conditioner.
I’ll go get some. Make my hair all shiny and floral. Attract all the bugs and birds and bees.
“What’s your name again, man?” Cade asks me, probably wondering why I’m just staring at his hair.
“I’m Chase,” I manage to say and then wave my hand around and smack myself in the face. The monkey cackles and then farts loudly.
